Sarah avoided Adrian like a plague. In the hallways, in the cafeteria, even in the courtyard—wherever she saw him, she slipped away. No matter how many times he tried to strike up a conversation, she refused to give him the satisfaction.
Until the library.
She had tucked herself into a corner seat, determined not to move, when his shadow fell across her table. Before she could gather her things, Adrian grabbed her wrist and, with surprising ease, tugged her toward the back of the building—down a narrow corridor few students ever walked.
"Why are you ignoring me?" he asked, his voice low, cornering her in the silence.
Sarah crossed her arms, her glare sharp. "Because you're stupid. And I don't move with stupid people."
A grin curved his lips. "Oh, so you do talk to me. I'll take that as progress."
Her patience snapped. "Listen, if you follow me one more time, I'll start calling you a kidnapper."
Adrian leaned in slightly, his tone playful but unsettling. "Aren't you supposed to be happy a handsome kidnapper like me is trying to kidnap you?"
Her cheeks flushed, but she shoved him back, flustered. "You're impossible." With that, she stormed off, her footsteps echoing against the quiet hall.
Behind her, Adrian chuckled softly to himself. The sound of his laughter trailed her like a shadow.
---
That evening, Sarah returned home drained yet strangely lighter, her lips betraying the smallest smile when she thought of his ridiculous words. After freshening up, she wandered downstairs and froze.
Her mother stood in the kitchen—not cooking, not moving—just staring out the window at the field. At the scarecrow.
Caught up in her own sudden burst of affection, Sarah wrapped her arms around her mother from behind. "Mom," she whispered.
Her mother's eyes didn't leave the window. "Don't you think that field is a bit… off?"
Sarah blinked, unsettled. For the first time in years, she remembered her father's old warnings. Stay away from the scarecrow. Stay away from the field.
But she shoved the thought aside, tightening her embrace. "Should we cook dinner together? Just the two of us—like we used to? Please?" Her voice trembled, pleading.
Her mother turned at last, a smile ghosting across her lips. "Of course. Let's cook."
Later, at the dining table, her mother sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, Sarah. For not… for not being there for you. I reported everything to the police, but there's no news. I just… I just wish your father was safe."
Sarah lowered her gaze, her chest tightening. "I wish it too. He's not gone, Mom. He can't be. He'll come back."
But something flickered in her mother's expression. A shadow. "What if he's dead, Sarah? What if he left us forever?"
"No," Sarah snapped, shaking her head. "Daddy will never die. He can't. Nothing can make him die. What could possibly—"
Her mother's voice cut through the air like a knife. "What if it's that field? What if the problem is with the field?"
Sarah stared at her in disbelief. "Are you saying… something not living killed Dad?"
Her mother dropped her gaze, silent.
Confusion spiraled through Sarah's mind as she retreated upstairs. From her window, she stared at the field, the scarecrow standing stiff and silent under the night sky. Her mother's words echoed mercilessly in her skull.
What if the problem is the field?
Sarah pressed her forehead to the glass, staring until her eyes burned. No answers came. No movements stirred. Only the scarecrow, standing there, patient. Watching.
Sleep claimed her at last. But the unease did not leave.
---